


Brother's Guidance

by megsblackfire



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Baby!Erron, Bittersweet Ending, Hunting, Implied abuse, semi-graphic explanations about cleaning a deer carcass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megsblackfire/pseuds/megsblackfire
Summary: Erron Black might have been young, but his brother's lessons stuck.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Brother's Guidance

Jeromy knelt down beside his little brother and helped steady his tiny frame as he braced the rifle against his shoulder. He added his hand to the underside of the rifle, keeping the powerful weapon steady so that Erron could focus on his shot. The deer continued stripping bark from the tree, completely unaware of the two humans downwind of it. Erron took his time lining up the shot and then held his breath as he squeezed the trigger.

The rifle boomed and the deer jumped. Blood spattered the pristine snow and the deer bolted for the deeper woods. It made it twenty paces before it fell lifeless to the ground. Crows were screaming their discomfort, but Erron’s delighted shriek blocked out most of the noise.

“I got it! Did you see that, Jeromy?”

Jeromy smiled as he stood up and dusted snow off of his pants. “I did,” he said. “Come on; help me clean the deer before the wolves show up for their take.”

“Would they attack?” Erron asked as he wadded after Jeromy into the snow. “Old Man Skinner said that wolves don’t usually attack people.”

“When there’s a kill involved, they might,” Jeromy said as he cleared a path for his brother to follow. “They’ve got bellies to feed too.”

“We’re not food.”

“A hungry animal forgets its fear, Erron,” Jeromy smiled as he stepped up beside the downed deer. “Stay back.”

Erron obeyed, watching as Jeromy knelt down. He drew his knife quickly across the slack throat, making sure the beast was good and dead so that he didn’t get attacked when he put his knife to its belly. He waved Erron over as blood dribbled into the snow, wiping a spot clear for his brother to kneel in.

“You remember how to clean a deer?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good; you get the guts while I get the hide.”

“Mrs. Potter can turn the hide into a blanket, right?”

“She can.”

Erron grinned as he stuck the knife into the deer’s belly and started cutting. Jeromy watched his brother work, noting that his pale features turned a faint shade of green as blood and intestines tumbled out over his hands. 

“This is gross,” Erron whispered.

“Yup, sure is,” Jeromy laughed. He stopped as Erron cut deeper into the deer’s belly and a very full womb flopped out. “Oh.”

“She had babies.”

Jeromy nodded as he scooted closer to his brother. He cut open the womb and pulled out the twin fawn fetuses. He examined them, huffing at the state of the carcasses. He would have loved to bring home some extra tender meat for everyone, but the fawns were barely developed enough to be noticeably deer-like.

“We can’t eat that,” Erron whispered.

“No,” Jeromy agreed as he stood up. “It’s okay. The wolves will have a good meal.”

“You said not to waste anything.”

“We aren’t wasting it,” Jeromy smiled. “We can’t eat this, but scavengers can. The rest of the doe will go in the larder.”

Erron nodded and looked down at his hands. Jeromy walked a short distance away and laid the steaming carcasses in the snow. He turned and walked back to his brother, kneeling down to hold his shoulders.

“You did nothing wrong, Erron,” he soothed.

“I shot her while she was pregnant,” Erron swallowed, tears already starting to stream down his face.

“If it hadn’t been you, it might have been another hunter. Or, she might not have found enough food this winter and died.”

“But I shot her.”

“Listen, Erron,” Jeromy squeezed his brother’s shoulders. “Survival isn’t nice and easy. It’s one thing to act nice and polite and courteous to other people, but nature doesn’t care. It doesn’t care if you’re young or old, weak or strong; when the winter winds bear down on you, you do what you need to in order to survive.”

Erron sniffled and wiped at his nose. “I still feel bad, Jeromy.”

“I know. And that’s okay too. But because you shot her, we’re gunna have food in our bellies for a while.”

“Is that what nature’s like?”

“Yes. The deer around here are numerous; us taking one doe won’t hurt it too much.”

“You sure?”

“It’s what’s been happening here for generations. If the Indians didn’t wipe out the deer population before we showed up, we won’t.”

Erron smiled weakly before he returned to the task of gutting the deer. Jeromy started skinning the deer, making sure to keep as much of the pelt intact as he could. He wanted to give Mrs. Potter a nice, big hide to work with so that she could make Erron a warm winter coat. The one he had was starting to get a little threadbare and he couldn’t expect his little brother to follow him into the wilderness if he had no means to keep himself warm.

Once the deer was gutted and skinned, Jeromy hoisted the carcass onto his shoulders. Erron “helped” by holding up a leg as they headed back towards their home. The path up to the house was worn down from their venture down to the lowlands, so it wasn’t as much of a slog to get home. Still, Jeromy was winded by the time they reached the butchering hut outside of the inn. He strung the deer up by the hind legs and started butchering the carcass. 

Erron stayed with him, cutting the meat into smaller pieces for curing and storage. He kept glancing at the inn, but no one came out to harass them. Finally, when there was nothing but bloodied bones left, Jeromy gathered up the meat and hauled it behind the inn to the underground cellar. Erron followed with the rolled up hide, grinning as Jeromy told him to run it along to Mrs. Potter and ask for her to make him the “special gift” that Jeromy had asked of her. He was gone in an instant, happy for any excuse not to enter the house. Jeromy waited until his brother was gone before steeling himself for whatever bullshit was about to come his way.

He stepped into the house and was immediately met with his sour-mouthed mother glaring at him. He knocked his boots off at the door and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it up on the coat rack.

“We got a deer,” he said as he dusted the last of the snow off of his clothing.

“And the boy?”

“Running the pelt to Mrs. Potter.”

Ma sniffed and turned her nose up at him, but didn’t say anything else. Mary was at her elbow peeling potatoes, her eyes on her task, but showing signs that she had been crying. Jeromy did his best not to spit something spiteful at his mother before he headed for the fireplace to warm himself up. He could hear his father roaring with laughter with the guests in the main lounge, no doubt enjoying whatever tall-tale was being spun for his younger sisters. Erron should have been there with them, but he was never welcome with the guests.

The door opened as Jeromy finished warming his hands and Erron tumbled in followed by a cloud of snow. Ma immediately rushed over to scold him, yanking him out of his coat as she bumped the door closed with her hip. She went on about letting the cold in while Erron struggled weakly to avoid her grasping claws.

“I can do it myself, Ma,” he huffed as he wiggled out of his coat. “See?”

“Stop wiggling, boy,” Ma snapped. “I shouldn’t have let you go with Jeromy if this is how you’re going to act.”

“He’s a big boy, Ma,” Jeromy said as he walked over to rescue his brother. 

“Yeah! I shot a deer!”

“You let him shoot that rifle?” Ma demanded.

“I helped keep him steady.”

“And if that monster had broken his shoulder?”

“It doesn’t have that much kick, Ma.”

“Yeah! It only hurt a little.”

Ma did not look convinced, but let Jeromy help Erron out of his winter clothing. Jeromy did his best not to wince at the way that Erron’s skin clung to his bones. He nudged his brother towards the fireplace, wanting him to get warmed up and stay warm before supper. He ignored Ma’s pointed look as he walked over to help Mary with dinner prep, sitting down to start grating carrots and dicing onions.

“Thanks,” Mary whispered as Ma went to go do whatever else caught her attention. “She’s been insufferable.”

“Tell that man of yours to hurry up and finish building your house,” he teased. “Then you won’t have to deal with her.”

“Like Ma’s ever going to let me go,” Mary huffed as Erron slipped over to start peeling peas. “No snacks, turtle dove.”

Erron grinned up at his sister and purposefully popped a nice, big pea into his mouth. Mary groaned and swatted her brother’s head, clucking her tongue at how naughty he was. Jeromy smiled as they lapsed into comfortable silence.

“Some day,” he murmured, “this is going to be us.”

“Hmm?” Mary asked.

“You, me, your man, and the brat,” Jeromy stuck his tongue out at Erron to get him to laugh, “it’ll be all of us sitting around far away from Ma and Pa.”

“Wishful thinking,” Mary smiled. “But I like that idea.”

Erron nodded eagerly, grinning as he dumped peas into a bowl. “And we’ll go hunting together all the time, right?”

“All the time,” Jeromy promised. “Just you wait and see.”

* * *

Erron watched the snowflakes spiral down and blanket the lodge in snow. He liked coming up here during the first snowfall of the season; Kotal Khan made sure that he had more than enough time to enjoy himself during the one time of the year that he actually asked for time off. It wasn’t home, but the scenery reminded him of those cold, winter days decades ago. 

He sipped his coffee, ignoring the bustling servants around him as they got the lodge prepped for the coming storm. They’d be snowed in for a few days and they needed to be sure they were ready for that. Erron didn’t care; he could head out and brave the storm at any time. All he needed was a coat, a gun, and a bit of magic to get him through.

He glanced at the fireplace and his brain fancied that he saw familiar shapes hunched over in front of the fire. He, Jeromy, and Mary were prepping vegetables for supper, whispering their dreams and hopes while Ma and Pa were busy being complete and utter fuckwits with their guests. Mary’s face had long since faded from memory, but her voice still made him crack a smile when he remembered it. Jeromy’s face stood out in his mind, similar to his own but with a much bigger nose and soft blue eyes that made him stand out in a crowd. His voice wasn’t as easy to remember, but if he stopped and concentrated, he could hear his brother’s rough voice in his ear.

In the end, he’d been the only one to escape Wicket. Jeromy joined the army and was KIA. Mary got married and had babies; her descendants were still scattered across the USA. He didn’t care what happened to his other sisters; they’d turned into his tormentors too. If he’d had the guts, he would have put a bullet in each of their heads too, not just Pa’s.

“Wait and see, huh, Jeromy?” he murmured as he looked back out the window. “Well, I’m here. Where’re you?”

Silence answered him, as it always did. He was the last Black and maybe that was for the best. Jeromy’s lessons would stick around, but Erron knew he could only rely on himself. It was too bad; he might have liked a nice, stationary life with his brother and sister. Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I will write more sad stories with Erron and Jeromy. This OC is just as demanding for attention as any other. And I like collecting tears.


End file.
